


Ghost Hunters

by Pluviann



Category: Northanger Abbey - Jane Austen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:40:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pluviann/pseuds/Pluviann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catherine and Henry Tilney are invited to spend the night at their neighbours home. Catherine seizes the chance to save another young girl from the folly of believing too much in horror and romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost Hunters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sandpipersummer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandpipersummer/gifts).



No-one who met Catherine Tilney would suspect that she had once been a heroine. It is commonly known that a story ends with a wedding, and a married woman is never the heroine of a tale. Although she had been married for nearly a year, Catherine Tilney shewed no inclination to retire from life, continuing to take pleasure in company and to display all the same charms and follies that she had as a single girl. Although she flattered herself that she was now a wiser and more rational woman: she had managed her household accounts perfectly for two months consecutively, besides reading nearly four chapters of Fordyce's Sermons. Instead, as befit the wife of the local clergyman, Catherine took a firm interest in the moral and spiritual improvement of the ladies and women of the parish.  
Catherine considered the case of the Delaney family. The youngest sister of the family reminded Catherine of herself at the same age (nearly a whole year ago). Miss Maria's delight in novels, her disdain for any other entertainment and her breathless delight at the thought of quite horrid occurrences, such as murders and abductions, were all the sort of foolish, girlish notions that Catherine had one entertained. Catherine saw at once her duty. It would be her role to draw Maria to an appreciation of rational pleasures, just as she had been drawn herself. Having resolved upon her course of action, Catherine was impatient to proceed.  
The chance to begin her good work was swiftly provided to her. The eldest son of the family, Robert Delaney, was home for Christmas vacation, and the Tilneys were invited to stay for a long weekend of grouse and pheasant hunting. Catherine had enjoyed herself immensely through out the day and late in the evening, as the girls retired for the night with their candles, Catherine grasped her chance.  
The house was quite dark now. The hallway, which had pleased Catherine so greatly earlier that day was now less enthralling. Where once it had been spacious, now it was cavernous. The great pillars vanished into Stygian gloom, and the soft carpets swallowed the sound of their passage. Catherine, for a moment felt her courage falter, but she was determined to set an example of rational conduct, and did not allow the wavering shadows or smothered silence to depress her spirits. After a moment, Maria began to talk artlessly of her sprigged muslin gown and Catherine realised, with no small annoyance, that the Gothic atmosphere of the hallway had no effect upon that young lady's spirits. She was quite insensible to the shadowy vaults and ominous silences.  
'I beg you,' said Catherine, 'do not be afraid. For although we have only one candle between us, and it is very dark and draughty, there is certainly no chance that we shall encounter any supernatural danger in this house.'  
'No indeed,' responded Maria, artlessly. 'For this part of the house is newly built, and if the candle were to be snuffed out, we could always call for the maid.'  
'I believe that the portrait gallery ahead of us is part of the original medieval structure,' said Catherine.  
'Oh,' Maria began to show some more interest. 'Is it haunted? Have there been any terrible murders there?'  
'Well,' said Catherine, compelled to honesty, 'I have not been told of any murders here or ghosts.'  
'Aha,' said Maria, with some satisfaction. 'No doubt the murder has been concealed for nefarious reasons.'  
Catherine was saved from responding to this vexing statement by their arrival in the portrait gallery. The hallway dwindled to a dark point in the distance, and the curtains were shifting gently in the draught (just as one would expect in such a long and narrow hallway, thought Catherine).  
'These are wonderful ghostly curtains, are they not?' said Maria approvingly. Catherine, who had viewed the imposing hallway with rather more trepidation than approval saw at once the invitation to advance her cause.  
'Fear not,' she commanded her companion (regardless of that young lady's robust cheerfulness). 'There is nothing to fear from ghosts here. If we were to inspect these curtains we would see at once that there is a perfectly rational explanation for their movements, no doubt caused by draughts and small gaps in the window fittings.' And she set forth to demonstrate the truth of her claim, pulling back the nearest curtain rather dramatically. Maria emitted a small squeak of alarm as she did so, although Catherine revealed nothing more exciting that a very ordinary window.  
'Oh,' said Maria. 'How thrilling. I was sure that we would see something awful.'  
'No indeed,' said Catherine, who had also felt a moment's trepidation as she pulled back the curtain, but would not have admitted it for the world. 'If we were to search behind every curtain in the gallery, we would find all of them just as safe.'  
'Oh yes,' said Maria with some excitement. 'Let us search out the spectres behind all the curtains.' And she hurried forward, shielding the candle with one hand so that the shadows danced alarmingly around the gallery. Catherine, who felt that her rational investigation was not having quite the effect that she had intended, nevertheless committed to her cause and stepped bravely forward to reveal the next window. The girls had progressed nearly a third of the way down the gallery, not losing any of the pleasure of anticipation as each window was revealed to be sadly devoid of supernatural menace, when the final curtain at the end of the hallway suddenly billowed forcefully out into the gallery. Both girls looked up in alarm and were suddenly silent.  
'As you see,' said Catherine, in a small voice. 'It is only a draught.'  
'Oh, Mrs Tilney,' said Maria breathlessly, 'that was far too vigorous to be a draught. It must be the ghost.' And she added excitedly, 'quick, let us go and see her spirit.' She hurried forward, cupping the candle. Catherine, suddenly very reluctant to be left in the darkness, hurried after her, saying dishonestly, 'I am quite certain I feel a very strong draught.'  
At this the curtain billowed again, and Maria screamed quite piercingly, causing Catherine to nearly jump out of her skin. 'Please, Miss Maria,' she said, quite sharply, 'control yourself. There is no need for panic. Pray, take a moment to compose yourself.' The girls paused in the progress, and as they did so a strange and mournful howl sounded from some distant place and echoed up the gallery.  
'Just a draught,' said Catherine, in a strangled voice.  
'Oh, Mrs Tilney,' said Maria. 'It is the voice of the dead. We have been summoned to our graves! If we go on, the ghost of that poor woman will take us!'  
Catherine did not feel the courage that she pretended, but her pride would not allow her to succumb to the fears which she denied. 'Nonsense, I shall show you that there is no such thing.' And she strode forward resolutely, pulling back the final curtain with a flourish and revealing, once again an empty window. The casement stood a little open to the night, and admited a flow of cold air. The girls looked at the window in bated silence, as if expecting more.  
'Huzzah!' a voice suddenly exclaimed. Maria screamed and dropped the candle. Catherine, to her shame, also cried out in surprise. There was a great confusion as they were plunged into darkness and Catherine struggled to maintain some calm. Maria seemed inclined to indulge in hysterics and the strange man who had come upon them contributed to Catherine's efforts with the ejaculation, 'Buck up, Mary! Gosh, what fuss budgets you girls are,' and a hearty laugh. At this, Catherine recognised Robert Delaney. His contribution rather exacerbated his sister's emotions, driving her from an hysterical fear into an angry tirade about the cruelty of brothers and general incivility of the whole male sex. They were saved from their confusion but the arrival of Henry with a lamp.  
'Miss Maria,' he said, 'are you quite well? I heard the screams? Are you ill?'  
'No indeed,' responded Catherine. 'We are very well.'  
'Foolish females were scaring themselves looking for ghosts behind the curtains,' said Robert.  
'We were not,' said Catherine with a blush, as she met Henry's enquiring eye.  
'Oh Mrs Tilney,' said Maria reprovingly, who was fully recovered and quite cheerful again.  
'But,' said Catherine, 'we weren't looking for ghosts. We were looking precisely because there weren't any ghosts.'  
'Forgive me,' said Henry gravely, 'you were looking for the absence of ghosts?'  
Catherine began to feel that this conversation was not proceeding how she wished at all.  
'Yes indeed, we weren't expecting ghosts,' began Catherine.  
'I was hoping for a ghost,' interjected Maria.  
'We were proving that there was nothing to fear from such nonsense,' Catherine persevered.  
'Indeed, Mrs Tilney,' Henry continued solemnly. 'if one feels the need to prove the absence of ghosts it must be due to the fear of the presence of ghosts? One would not search for proof if one were not in need of it.'  
Catherine was quite silenced by this observation and knew not how to answer.  
'La!' Maria replied. 'And a capital hunt it was too!' Then linking arms with the brother that she had abused so recently, so bade a good night to the Tilneys and departed for her rooms.  
Catherine and Henry walked down the hallway in silence for some moments before Catherine spoke in a halting voice,  
'I wish you would understand that I was not engaged in any foolish flights of fancy. Indeed, I was quite certain that we were perfectly safe, and wished to demonstrate so to Maria, for she has such a passion for gothics, you know.'  
'Indeed,' said Henry. 'And so you believe she was in need of such demonstration?'  
'Oh yes,' said Catherine. 'Because, you know, she is so fond of the supernatural.'  
'To be fond of the supernatural, is not the same as to fear it,' said Henry. 'Did she display any sign of trepidation?'  
'You heard her scream so loudly when the candle went out.'  
'And was there any other sign? Was she reluctant to proceed this way?'  
'No,' said Catherine, 'I think rather that she was keen to proceed.'  
'Perhaps then,' said Henry, 'her experience of the Gothic is not one of credulity and fear, but rather one of indulgence and pleasure.'  
'But,' said Catherine,' if she did not fear it then she did not believe it. And if she did not believe it, then why did she indulge it?'  
'Have you never encountered someone who searched out a contrived excitement, if they had very little experience of true excitment?'  
'No,' said Catherine in confusion, 'for who could find life to be without excitement? Why, just these week we have dined with three different families!'  
'Quite so,' said Henry with a smile. 'Come to bed, Mrs Tilney.'


End file.
